Royal Celebration [Pt. I]

Mkhiwe Urika’s time at work was an exercise in patience and constraining his excitement. He could barely sit still in his seat let alone focus on the holograms of the city’s sanitation system. Tonight was the night! The first gathering to celebrate the official ascension of Markanda’s true and only king!

For what felt like the hundredth time, he called up his invitation to read through the instructions and ensure that some glitch in the system hadn’t made it vanish into the next world.

A hand suddenly clasped his shoulder, strong fingers digging in briefly, “Mkhiwe, you lucky bastard! Bad enough your family won the lottery, you’ve got to flaunt it too!”

He turned in his chair with a grin, laughing at his friend Abek, “Not at all! I’d happily let you go in my place if you want it so bad.”

“Oh don’t give me hope. Though I must admit… I’ve had a wild thought about knocking out your son and going in his place.” Abek puffed out his chest and stuck out his shoulders comically, “What do you think?”

“Huh. I think you’re better off impersonating one of my daughters.”

“Ouch. A low blow, brother.”

They talked for a bit more, mostly Abek grumbling about having to watch the festivities from the comfort of his own home. Eventually, he returned to his own work station and Mkhiwe managed to get through the rest of his allotted time at work without going mad.

Birnin Zana was in a jubilant mood, he could see it in all of the smiling faces and the sounds of laughter and excitement as he walked along the streets to the nearest tram. It was a far cry from the aura of gloom and barely contained fury that had permeated every street, every home, and every public gathering space only a week ago in the wake of their King’s abduction by the mutant megalomaniac. Now the air was suffused with sunny emotions and unbridled excitement with his triumphant return, the impending celebration, and the quiet rumors that the complete conversion of the country to true fealty was very much at hand.

In the past few days, Mkhiwe had heard about rarely seen Jabari tribesman in the capital and the palace and he was quite sure that the King had paid the mountain dwelling heathens a royal visit.

Arriving at his home, he found his Tanzule in a rush, her voice booming from their bedroom at their eighteen-year-old daughters and twenty-one year old son. Thante was sanguine lounging before the screen in main room. He seemed to be dressed and ready to go, wearing a loose flowing pair of pants, his brawny chest bare.

They greeted each other and Mkhiwe headed back to his bedroom, catching sight of his Koruti sliding her thong into place as she stood before her mirror as he passed her doorway. Her hair was done up, elaborate ringlets both piled up and sculpted and flowing down her lithe back, the shaved clean half of her head had bright neon make-up outlining her skull’s tattoos. He shook his head a bit. All her laborious preparations would surely come to naught. His twin daughters excitement for this day was possibly even greater than his own and he wished them all the fortune in the world. Nothing would make him happier than seeing their slim bellies bulging with the King’s babies, but it was unlikely in the ****. There would be thousands of women at the celebration and the chances of his dear daughters catching their liege’s eye was remote.

He was an engineer, he knew more about probabilities than most. But alas his daughters did not seem to be the next Shuri, neither tech geniuses or king’s pet would they likely be.

His son, Thante, though. He had a good chance of following in his father’s footsteps. This thought carried him into his bedroom where he found Tanzule before her own mirror in a beautiful black and white dress that left both her shoulders and top halves of her melon-sized teats bare, the tops of her fat purplish areolas peaking out. She looked absolutely ravishing, like the day he married her even… Which was really too bad…

“Did you not read the invitation, woman?”

She placed her hands on her big hips, “IS that how you greet your queen and wife, the love of your life, the sun on the veldt as you so often say, huh?”

He grinned, “Nah. Like this.” And he approached and grabbed her, pulling her in for a kiss.

His wife made a please sound into his mouth before she shifted her pelvis away from his groin and replaced it with her hand, “Mmm… better. But what’s this? Excited are you? And who was the one telling me last night how I shouldn’t get my hopes up of a big royal white bun in my oven, hmm?”

“Hey. It is still a possibility and an exciting fantasy for us both as last night can attest…yea?”

They rubbed against each other sensually, giggling and kissing for a bit before he finally got around to telling her, “You can’t wear this dress, not unless you care to lose it. That’s essentially what the invitation said. Rumors abound but you know how the king spends his free time up at the palace?”

She snorted and smiled, “He’d better be making babies. That’s his job as far as I’m concerned.”

“Right, so the word is this is going to end up being a big orgy in his honor. Some people are planning on only going in thongs.”

“Oh! So you’ll be heading on over in just yours then?” she laughed.

“I’ll wear one of my ratty old robes with it. The point is that I don’t want you to lose this dress. I’m sure things will be crazy by the end of the night.”

“You don’t think I can just take it off and keep track of it, husband?!”

He held up his hands in surrender as he stepped backwards, still grinning. He’d tried, that was all one could do and definitely never tell her “I told you so.” Not if he valued his happy life…

“I told you so.” He just couldn't help himself.

His wife glared at them as they waited within the thick press of people in the main entry hall of the stadium. There were at least ten lines leading up to a large central fire pit where officials were checking each person's right to be here and then directing them to disrobe and throw their clothing into the fire. Mkhiwe was a bit irritated that this rule hadn't been more clearly spelled out in the invitation but it all became clear when the official at the front explained, "The king wants no barriers between him and his people and throwing your garments into the fire is an act blessed by Bast of true devotion between you and your king."

Hearing this Tanzule was absolutely ecstatic to expose her plump body and reverently toss her favorite dress into the pyre, a far greater sacrifice than the old robe Mkhiwe had to offer. He slipped off his g-string and added the small bit of silk to the fire and stepped aside as his children added their own clothing.

His wife and daughters were directed to go around the large rectangular fire-pit and enter the floor of the stadium while his son and he were told to make use of the staircases to head up to the stands. They made their way through the crowd of either naked or hastily disrobing people and made their quick good-byes, everyone keyed up with excitement. Separating from the girls, Thante was approached by another official and asked to come with her.

Mkhiwe exchanged questioning glances, wondering why he had been singled out but one did not disobey a representative of royalty, the king's absolute authority was filtered through them to the commoners like them, and Thante rushed to obey, Mkhiwe following out of curiosity and parental concern.

The civil servant wore a reed loincloth that was thin enough to reveal the majority of her ripe hips and plump thighs, her top consisting of only a wide beaded fan about her neck that covered the upper slopes of her chocolate breasts but left her large dark nipples and the undersides in full view, the smooth soft expanse of her abdomen exposed, an ornate piercing in her belly button. She was clearly merchant tribe through and through, by her markings and jewelry but also her brusque focused manner as she hurried them to the side even as she tapped away at the small holographic display around her Kimoyo Beads about her left wrist. As she walked in front of them, he couldn’t help but appreciate the view, the back of her thong a mere string packed tightly between those fat sashaying cheeks.

Once they were off to the side of the vast chamber, she turned back to them and held up her wrist bearing her Kimoyo Beads, tapping at them she then held her hand in the familiar sensor gesture out towards Thante and in particular his groin. The official noted Mkhiwe's presence with a brief look but she apparently decided she did not care and returned to her scanning.

"Stimulate your penis. Get erect." She commanded in a bored tone.

His son looked a bit sheepish at the request, clearly a bit embarrassed to do so right here at the side of this entryway hall filled with a crush of people flowing into the arena. The woman had a brief flash of impatient frustration on her soft features before she gestured to the side, directing their gaze to where another inspection was taking place a few meters down the wall, the official already shaking his head as the potential royal guardsman tugged upon his erect member. Unfortunately, though he was quite muscular it was obvious that he was not particularly well endowed.

Thante's face was red as he slowly stroked himself to grow hard. Mkhiwe was more than a bit embarrassed himself, standing here nude as his own son worked himself to a strong erection right in front of him, naked people passing by constantly nearby.

Thante was soon quite hard and Mkhiwe was both impressed and somewhat emasculated to learn that his own son was better endowed than he was. Still he was filled with both pride and dismay to learn that his son would no doubt be inducted into the ranks of the King's Royal Guard. They hugged tightly and he kissed Thante on the forehead. Thante made a joke about how perhaps his sisters would be asked to join the Royal Harem and he'd get to see them plenty. But soon enough Mkhiwe's eyes were tearing up as his only son was led away, the civil servant now quite a bit more lively than she had been before.

He lingered for a while but finally he wandered over to one of the staircases and joined the flow of naked men walking up them. Eventually, he found his seat about half way up the side of the stadium, one of the ushers instructing them to sit as closely together on the benches as possible to make room for everyone. Mkhiwe sat with his naked hip in firm contact with the man beside him and he was squeezed tight when his next neighbor sat just as close.

The stadium had a capacity of a 100,000 but that was just in the stands. Nearly every square foot of the field in the middles was covered in naked kneeling Markandan women.

Mkhiwe spent a few minutes searching for his wife and daughters but at this distance that was impossible, it was a sea of dark skinned female forms and without clothes they were for the most part indistinguishable. Still, it was a very arousing search and he surely wasn’t the only man feasting his eyes on all that naked nubile flesh on display even if it was at a distance.

On one side of the field was a raised stage with a grouping of the only clothed individuals in the entire stadium upon it. A line of red-caped Royal Guardsmen stood in front of it, completely unmoving, a wall of muscular black flesh between the crowd of kneeling women and those above. The King wasn't up there yet but Mkhiwe saw a black woman with bright white hair and a white woman with brilliant red hair that could only be the queens.

He waited for about forty-five minutes, making awkward small talk with his fellow naked seat-mates as the stadium steadily filled up and the number of colorfully dressed important people increased on the stage. Eventually there was a tribal orchestra that signaled the beginning of the Royal Ceremony and when it reached its crescendo, the tiny figure that had to be Storm approached the center of the stage.

A vast hologram burst into existence in the air above the center of the stadium and he could see her exquisite beauty better. She wore a dress of purple, gold, and black with a proper Markandan geometric motif that revealed the deep cleavage of her large breasts, her dark skin at the sides of her stomach as well as the tops of her thighs. Her golden cape on the inside, purple on the outside billowed fitfully with a wind all its own. As the astonishing beauty stepped up to the edge, she held up her hands and the crowd shrieked as a lightning bolt struck her but did no damage, merely crawling across her perfect form like mere accents to her beauty.

The crowd went wild, cheering and roaring, and Mkhiwe was no exception.

She held up her hand and the entire stadium went silent.

"Brothers and sisters of Markanda!"

“Greetings on this momentous occasion! A celebration for our King, a celebration for the rebirth of our proud beautiful nation, and… a celebration of our perfect devotion to him, our King, as a loyal adoring people!”